I needed to pee at work – my trainer’s response was perfect

My words came out in a rush, his eyes widened and I immediately began apologising (Picture: Pk Kulasegram)

‘I can’t pee there’, I said gesturing to the spot my on-the-job trainer Lee*, had deemed the best place for me to use the bathroom. 

We were parked up by a narrow alleyway that had an ivy-covered wall, in a residential area, with no public toilets to be found, and six hours into my first shift as a delivery driver.  

I was desperate, but Lee maybe assumed I was nervous. 

‘It’s perfect’, he said to me. 

To him – a cisgender man – of course it was.

After all, in the grand scheme of public places to pee, this was perfect. As long as you had a penis – which I do not.

‘I don’t have a dick. I’m trans’, I said without thinking. My words came out in a rush, his eyes widened and I immediately began apologising.

He stopped me, holding up a hand, his voice firm but not unkind.

‘No. I shouldn’t assume. We’re all different, and that’s beautiful.’

I was scared because transphobes had told me that people like him (Picture: Pk Kulasegram)

I struggled to think of something to say, to try and express this overwhelming feeling of gratitude and acceptance bubbling within me. Against all odds, with this near stranger I felt safe, seen, and supported.

I was scared because transphobes had told me that people like him – a masculine man – hates people like me. 

Instead, he said ‘let’s find somewhere for you to pee’, and drove off. 

Toilets have always been a struggle, even before I accepted myself as trans, started hormones or had top surgery. 

I remember being a kid and having adults yell at me for being in the ‘wrong’ toilet – something that happened on more than one occasion and that only got more frequent as I got older.

They may not always get my pronouns or name right, but they love me for who I am (Picture: Pk Kulasegram)

I was told I was a girl, so I should use the ladies, and that’s what I did – apparently this was wrong.

The reactions I got when I used women’s toilets ranged from visible confusion to outright hostility. Once a cleaner came up to me, screaming that a man shouldn’t be in the women’s toilets. It didn’t matter that I had breasts, that my hair was long – I was failing at being a woman.

I came out as trans in 2016 – or at least I did to the people around me. It would take me a little longer to come out to my family in Malaysia – after all, I’d just reconnected with them after a family argument, knew they were heavily Catholic and didn’t want to lose them again. 

But I didn’t have to worry. 

They may not always get my pronouns or name right, but they love me for who I am and in the words of my aunt ‘anyone who hates you for being trans isn’t really a Christian – God doesn’t make mistakes.’

Socially, I had the privilege of surrounding myself with people who got it, who saw me for me and loved me. 

However, work was an entirely different matter. I had a number of jobs, and struggled to fit in. Transphobia, some subtle, some overt, defined my working life. 

I was terrified of being trapped in a van with a complete stranger more than twice my size (Picture: Pk Kulasegram)

I now educate people on inclusion for a living as a Director for Simply Equality (my own social enterprise), which means I get to see this more than most, but I also know just how much more difficult things have become for trans people. 

So when I signed up to do this delivery job as a way to make ends meet, I decided not to share my gender identity. I didn’t plan on doing this long term, I reasoned, and it didn’t feel relevant.

In reality, I was terrified of being trapped in a van with a complete stranger more than twice my size who could seriously hurt me if he chose to.

It’s why I defaulted to apologising when revealing my identity to Lee – I had lied to him and worried that if he felt embarrassed, he would get angry and even lash out. 

But I was wrong. 

He did not care that I was trans and he wasn’t offended that I hadn’t told him. He just wanted to make sure I could do the job and find somewhere to pee. 

He treated me like any other person – laughing, joking and sharing his tips for doing the job well – cursing when the app we used didn’t work and cheering when we powered through enough for an early finish.

He accepted me for who I am, treated me like part of the team and asked only that I worked hard.

I was surprised to find out that Lee wasn’t an outlier.

I finished my training with another guy who one day asked me my life story, and so I decided to tell him. All of it, including that I was trans. 

He treated me like any other person (Picture: Pk Kulasegram)

He asked me how it felt to tell him. And I was honest – terrifying, because I had been bullied in the past for it.

His face changed. 

‘Anyone does anything like that to you here, you tell me and I’ll sort them. We don’t do that to each other – I don’t care who you are, we’re a team.’

He cared more about whether I could do my job and be a good team player than what happened to be in my pants.

He teased me for making a mistake more than once, taught me how to organise parcels and told me a little about his own past and story. Every time we bump into each other, he claps me on the back, tells me to relax and have fun on the road.

Despite what we’re told, the vast majority of people don’t actually hate trans people. Most people, if given a chance, just want to know if we can do our jobs and whether or not we’re a decent person.

It was a relief to find out that the world isn’t against us. 

Allies are all around us. 

We just have to give them a chance.

*Names have been changed

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